Page 335 of Rangers Mountain Rescue
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“Yeah,” I say.
“And we’re peeling them.”
Day three—
We lose them.
Completely.
No tracks.
No signs.
Nothing.
Just…
Gone.
The team goes quiet.
Frustrated.
Tired.
But not broken.
Not yet.
“They’re ghosting us,” someone says.
“No,” I reply.
I stand.
Scan the horizon.
Think.
“They’re watching us.”
That lands.
Because it makes sense.
Because people like this?
They don’t just run.
They study.
They adapt.
They wait.
That night—
I sit alone for a minute.
